Update: for the 60th anniversary of this disaster, I wrote a retrospective for The New York Times. My friend SamDakota put together a really good-looking graphic image of some of the stories I collected in the wake of this post.

“Shortly after the fourth alarm, a terrific explosion occurred, shooting smoke and flame over 500 feet into the air. Thousands of windows were broken within a radius of a mile and serious structural damage occurred within a radius of a quarter mile. Buildings were shaken in the financial district of downtown New York two miles away and the noise of the blast was heard for 35 miles.”

– The New York Board of Fire Underwriters Bureau, 1957

The 35th Street inferno.

It was a routine job: cutting the metal columns of a pier to replace the cables on the cargo-handling equipment. It went horribly wrong.

The date was December 3, 1956. The time was 3:15 p.m. As the flame from an oxyacetylene torch met the cold steel of a column of the structure atop the pier, sparks flew in several directions – including toward a mountain of 26,365 pounds of ground foam rubber scrap packed in 500 burlap bags. The fuzz of the bags quickly ignited, engulfing the entire pile in flames.

No one knew that 37,000 pounds of a Class C Explosive called Cordeau Detonant Fuse lay nearby. Twenty-six minutes later, it announced its presence – to the tune of 10 dead, 247 injured, and $10,000,000 in property damage.

The Luckenbach Steamship Co., Inc. pier at 35th Street was the longest in New York Harbor. Covering most of its 1,760 feet was a superstructure 175 feet wide, with walls of corrugated iron and a roof of tar and gravel, all set on a heavy timber and steel framework.

Earlier in the day, there had been an additional 11,415 pounds of rubber scrap on the pier, but some of the burlap bags had proven insufficient to the task. The investigators believe that pieces of the highly inflammable scrap had been strewn across the dock in the process of being removed, leaving a bread-crumb trail for the flames to follow. A westerly wind also helped.

The first alarm went off at 3:16 p.m., one minute after the fire began. Longshoremen and pier workers did their best to put it out with handheld extinguishers. The inferno – and the accompanying black smoke – proved too great for them. They waited for reinforcements.

It was “already of major proportions” when professional help arrived. These first responders found themselves unable to access the blaze from land, so they called in fireboat support. The firefighters sounded three more alarms before an enormous explosion erupted at 3:41. The central area of the south side of the dock was eviscerated.

Cordeau Detonant Fuse, also known as Primacord, was considered a minimal explosion risk – unless packaged with detonators or other explosives. Its placement so close to the rubber scrap was a serious oversight, one that resulted from a lack of knowledge of hazardous materials among the dock workers. It wasn’t until two days later that a review of the shipping records revealed the Primacord had been on the pier.

The explosion launched the steel frame of the superstructure in all directions. One piece landed in a cargo shed at Erie Basin half a mile away, starting a fire there. The flying steel caused all ten deaths; one victim a full 1,000 feet from the scene.

The shock wave was immense, rattling buildings miles from the epicenter. It shattered glass for a mile around, which was the source of most of the injuries.

Amazingly, no firemen died. They were too close to the blast, which ejected the shrapnel over their heads(!).

Within half an hour of the explosion, the fire was considered a four-alarm fire by Manhattan fire companies, with one lane of the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel shut down to speed their access to the site. At least one company from Queens also responded.

At 6:41 p.m., the Fire Chief announced the blaze was under control. It would not be put out entirely for another day, and FDNY kept watch lines present on the site for a week.

The report suggested a few changes in policy to prevent similar future accidents. It called for training for all dock workers on recognizing fire risks. It proposed limiting hazardous materials to specified areas, “away from other materials that might augment their hazards in any fires.” It advocated special markings for explosives, and a periodic review of government codes and regulations.

When I visited Industry City Distillery – which is on 35th Street – last week, I noticed that the wrought-iron fire escape was twisted in some spots, and missing pieces in others. Rich, a partner at the distillery who shares my passion for history, told me of a rumor that a German artillery boat had blown up in the harbor during World War II.

I guess we can put that rumor to bed.

Watch where you place your feet.

Additional reading:

Brooklyn, N.Y. waterfront fire and explosion. Report by The New York Board of Fire Underwriters Bureau, et al., 1957.

I will never forget that day.I remeber the house shook.I lived in Flatbush about 3.5 miles away.I walked as far as the parade grounds which was 2 blocks north of MY house.I saw a huge cloud of smoke.It looked like an atomic bomb.I was almost 1o years old at the time.

My father, a food importer making a pick-up, was in warehouse at the time of the explosion. He said the friends who he was standing next to and talking to all died immediately (flying glass and steel). He crawled out on his belly on layers of glass shards. He found his truck and drove himself to the hospital, His whole face and body were covered with small glass particles which took doctors many hours to remove. He came home at around 11PM. When I answered the door (I was 12 years old at the time) I didn’t recognize him as his face was tremendously swollen and bright red. His clothes were all in shreds with tiny little sparkling glass particles imbedded in the fabric.

Thank you Keith for posting this story. The image of my father at the door has appeared in my dreams often over the years. Finding your link has given me the idea of doing an artwork with this image and subject matter. I have done many artworks concerning tragedy as a university art professor :https://art.umn.edu/people/faculty/davidfeinberg
The Great Brooklyn Explosion has been lost in history and it needs to be revisited especially since, in this tragedy, I experienced the emotions of the event

Hi David, Im gladthat your father made it out with no serious physical injuries. As you may have read, my dad didn’t. I’ve spoken with a few survivors over the years and they all found it difficult to talk or even think about that day. It’s the PTSD that they all live/lived with that effected their lives. I hope your dad was able to contain it. Thank you for sharing, Tony Cuccia

Tony, it was my now 88 year old brother Fred, and I believe he is still affected by the incident and in those days PTSD hadn’t yet been coined…he was also a pretty good welterweight prize fighter as well as a longshoreman…so its really hard to determine which shots enhanced his battiness…lol My other brother and my dad were also there at a different pier…it was catastrophic indeed.

I was living on 62nd Street between 3rd and 4th Ave at the time. I was 10 years old. I will never forget the loud boom and the house shaking. I ran to the kitchen window which faced west and saw the thick black smoke. Everyone thought that a tanker must have exploded. I will never forget the experience and think of it every time I go to Brooklyn. Thanks for the article. It filled in a lot of details which I never knew.

My comment is strangely parallel to many of the others mentioned here. I echo the thanks for the interesting read.

My dad was about 10 at the time and lived in Brooklyn (don’t know the exact address). He’d told me about a time he and his friend were watching the fire out the window when a huge explosion happened. I know it blew out the window and sent shrapnel their way. Kinda eerie to think what might’ve been (or, rather, not have been) if his reaction time jumping away from the window had been a bit slower…

I was seven years old living in Park Slope on First Street between Fifth and Sixth Avenue. I was just home from school walking through the house towards the back when the whole house shook. I remember looking out the window and seeing what looked like a mushroom cloud. My first thought was A-Bomb! Some images just get burned into your memory forever. The real horror: (in one sense) my old house is now worth $2.6 million!

My father worked on the pier and died from the explosion. He was turned away from the Norwegian Hospital because of ‘more seriously injured’ patients. His friends took him to Coney Island Hospital where he later died of smoke inhalation. I was 4 and remember walking on Fort Hamilton Parkway with my mom when the explosion happened. She knew right away what happening. When we went home the phone call confirmed it. His name was/is Ben Cuccia.

This is a message for Tony Cuccia. My Uncle John Guida was your Dad’s brother in law. I remember your Dad and your sister RE RE. My Uncle Sal Guida was standing right next to your Dad when the explosion happen. He told how he was saved . A door was open and my Uncle Sal was thrown into the office sadly your dad was thrown
into a truck. I remember your Dad having a nice shiny car one time when he came to visit my Aunt Ida & Uncle John. I lived on the top floor on Summit St.

Tony, sorry to hear about your dad. And David Feinberg….about all those who died on the spot.
I too had an experience that I have never forgotten.
I was 16 at the time and had just gotten off the bus, coming home from Manual Training High School. I was at 5 ave and 39 st. ie within the 1 mile radius of the explosion.
Many of you may not know but in those days the schools held emergency drills vs Russian a-bomb attacks. In your Sunset Park fotos you show PS 169 where I ducked under desks during these a-bomb drills. Kind of foolish but the population was seriously indoctrinated with fear of an a-bomb attack. Then that explosion….
Glass came tumbling down with bricks and other debris. People screamed and panicked. Whats going on? Then that mushroom cloud appeared, like other posters here write, and then the crowd started running…me included. I ran up 39 st half way and ran out of gas. Looked back and saw the growing mushroom cloud. Then figured it was no use running. The radiation will get me anyway.
But the experience of seeing mass panic, and being part of it, is unforgettable.

Thank you John. I remember those drills
as well, although I started them a few years later. Under the desk with back toward the window. I guess the powers that be thought that was better than nothing. Now, the kids sit in the hallways. Seeing that mushroom cloud had to be frightening! I don’t remember seeing it.

Awful stories about those who died and got hurt right at the explosion site. If you were at 6th and 59th and I was at 5th and 39th that’s more than another mile away. It was a blast and a half to put it mildly

This is a message for Tony Cuccia. My Uncle John Guida was your Dad’s brother in law. I remember your Dad and your sister RE RE. My Uncle Sal Guida was standing right next to your Dad when the explosion happen. He told how he was saved . A door was open and my Uncle Sal was thrown into the office sadly your dad was thrown
into a truck. I remember your Dad having a nice shiny car one time when he came to visit my Aunt Ida & Uncle John. I lived on the top floor on Summit St.

My father was on the Fireboat Firefighter which was stationed at the very next pier, they were the first ones to respond. I saw the explosion from my front yard in Brooklyn, I was 4 years old, I remember it like it was yesterday. He was blown overboard, a fire chief and the chaplin came to our house to tell my mother he was gone. He wasn’t, he came home soaking wet in his turnouts, about an hour later. He was in the hospital for two days.

Hi Anthony – thanks for sharing your story. It is a shame I didn’t know about it earlier – I would have loved to include the perspective of the firefighters in my Times retrospective, but Marine One never replied to my requests. (I knew at least one of the firefighters had been blown overboard, but your father’s is certainly a new – and scary – dimension to the story.)

Ronald Passaretti- I was nine years old and lived at 43st and 3rd Ave.I was standing in front of the window when the explosion went off.I looked out across the street and watched all the windows of apartments above and the stores below pop out along 3rd Ave. A woman with a child in her arms across the street was screaming from the fallen glass. My father and neighbors went to her aid. A while later I started to see cars passing by with wounded people on the hood or top of the cars going to Norwegian hospital. My parents remember seeing a lot of the wounded laying outside the hospital on 4th Ave. And here’s one for Mick Tormey- If your referring to the Santa at Germain’s store on 5th Ave and 15st my cousin was in Santa’s lap at time of explosion him and many other children did not get to tell Santa their wishes that year.

I just found this article. I was a little boy living in Bay Ridge when this explosion occurred. I was somewhere in the vicinity walking with my Grandmother, who was pushing a stroller with my little sister.
I remember the scene, and the noise. We were on a sidewalk next a a long, tan brick wall. The only information I took away from my family was that there had been an explosion somewhere in the harbor. We were far enough away from the blast so that we weren’t injured.

Mom Sis & I were standing on the corner of 29th St & 4th Ave when the explosion happened. The Butcher shop’s plate glass window crashed down on our heads & then we ran!!! The only injury was a tiny cut on my ankle. I was six years old & remember it well. Since we lived closer to 5th Ave only one window was broken.

I was 9 and with my mother some 5 miles away on the Dekalb Ave. bus line when the explosion occurred mid-afternoon that day in early December 1956. The bus trembled and we soon saw a black almost mushroom-like cloud coming from what appeared to be the Red Hook area of Brooklyn. Only on arriving at our home on Hoyt St. did we learn that the explosion occurred at the docks where y father and two brothers were longshoremen. My oldest brother Fred was the only casualty. He was driving a forklift at the time and actually witnessed a decapitation fro the blast. We saw Fred rendering assistance on the newsreels but could not find him for two days when we were called by the Long Island College Hospital (?) and told he was there suffering amnesia from a concussive head injury…he’s 87 now and still a little patzo from the shock LOL. Ten fatalities including a boy coming home from school 1,000 feet fro the blast…we knew a fireman who was right next to the blast who did not get a scratch…apparently the shrapnel went up instead of sideways.

Hi Ralph, I was 4 at the time and my dad was on the pier as well, he was a checker. He made it off the pier but later died of smoke inhalation. Who knows, maybe they all worked together.
PS: who wouldn’t be ‘patzo’ after that! I’m glad they all survived.